Coming to Terms With A Facade
by Not Days but Knights
Summary: Although House seems to have let go of Wilson and accepted the woman he’s dating, House’s insecurities about himself and his friendship with Wilson continue to drive him to push Wilson till he breaks. ep 4x12 spoilers, eventual House/Wilson, please R
1. Answers

Coming to Terms with a Facade

_Rating:_ PG- PG13 for language

_Pairings and Characters_: Amber/Wilson, House, the rest

_Warnings:_ Spoilers for 4x12 Don't Ever Change, pre-slash/House/Wilson friendship

_Disclaimer:_ House and all other related characters are owned by Fox. This story borrows them simply for amusement and for a chance to write. No profits, no commercials. I promise.

_Summary:_ Although House seems to have let go of Wilson and accepted the woman he's dating, Houses' insecurities about himself and his friendship with Wilson continue to drive him to push Wilson till he breaks. The ultimate question remains: will he break because of Amber or because of House?

Chapter 1

House stood at the lobby elevator of Princeton Plainsboro, bouncing his cane in his hand and staring impatiently up at the ceiling. His mind had been whirling with various thoughts since the day before, and it had cost him his sleep, as well the remaining patience he had. As a result, he now stood before this ridiculously slow elevator, demanding immediate results and answers for everything. He had tried every theory about his biggest paradox of a friend, yet none of the theories seemed to fit as best as the most blatantly obvious – but it couldn't be the obvious... it never was.

Wilson was dating Amber because it made him happy... but why? What, specifically, did Wilson define as happiness? Would this happiness truly satisfy Wilson? What about Amber? She would certainly leech the happiness out of Wilson in a day when their relationship turned unfavorable in Amber's eyes. Because House knew that day would come. In that significant fact, House found the way to break into Wilson's defenses and find his answers from the inside-out. With Amber killing half of Wilson, and House harassing and emotionally dismantling Wilson's false sense of happiness, House would have no trouble patiently waiting for the moment of truth: which pressure would ruin Wilson first, and whose side would he turn to as a result?

House sighed and jabbed the "up" button on the elevator again. At least now, he had a plan which would satisfy his needs. As a side-effect, there would be no rest or satisfaction for anyone as long as House remained in this puzzling torment, as was always the case when House was unhappy. His demeanor and behavior had always acted as a trigger for people's interest. But this time, House realized, his little helpers would have to keep their attention on their case. If Wilson snapped because of a third party of pathetic doctors demanding to know what House was up to, House's entire set of gathered data would be completely spoiled. No, he would have to keep them updated personally, that way –

"I don't know how much longer this door will remain open for you, your highness," a familiar voice said, cutting across House's familiar pattern of thought. Wilson stood before him, sporting a blue sweater-vest over a lavender shirt, waiting in the elevator with his hand outstretched across the doorway, holding the door open. House gave a small start, then glared at Wilson as he stepped into the elevator.

"Thank you, jester, that was out of your line of duty." House said, continuing to glare almost menacingly at Wilson. The door then closed quickly behind him, leaving House with the bait on his line, ready to cast.

"How was your date last night, Casanova?" House asked, not looking at Wilson.

"Fine," Wilson replied through gritted teeth. He seemed uncomfortable about the subject, as if he knew where House was going to lead him.

"'Fine?'" House asked in disbelief. "What? No sex? Or did you kiss as miserably as when I first saw you two? If you're gonna work on the physical stuff, I'd start back at the very beginning."

"She kisses fine, House."

"Ah, again with the use of the word, 'fine', which forces me to believe that everything is not 'fine.'"

"Whatever happened to that wonderfully self-sacrificing House I spoke with last night?" Wilson said, sarcastically scanning the elevator. "Surely _he_ would understand that normal people do not want to know every detail of a person's date, from dinner to bed."

"Oh, well," House said, putting on his typical sarcastic air of concern, "I just want to make sure she's making you as happy as you claim..."

"Are you sure you're House?" Wilson replied, matching House's air of sarcasm. "That wonderful one who changed? You look exactly like the House of yesterday, only he had the ability to understand and cope with change. I really liked him, he was almost like having a friend who wasn't concerned about only himself."

"Committed suicide. Apparently he was too self-sacrificing. But you're still right – I've seen the error of my ways and have revised my decision about Amber: she's no longer a snake, she's a leech. She'll leech everything from you, and come out with the upper hand. She no longer has to be sly to have her meal – she can attack it outright."

"What exactly do you plan on accomplishing with analyzing and insulting my girlfriend?" Wilson said, confusedly, stepping out of the elevator as it slid open.

"I know you just _long _to be in her shoes, House," Wilson began, walking slowly and dramatically towards his office, "but you're not going to ruin anything between me and Amber."

"Exactly. _She_ will." House said, triumphantly, although his mind felt stung by Wilson's harsh, initially sarcastic statement. "She'll bend you until you break, and then you'll turn to me for comfort, because that's how it always works. If you're going to accuse anyone of not changing, it should be yourself."

Wilson sighed, searching for the key to his office. As he found the key, he gave House one final look, "Has it ever occurred to you that I'm running to her for comfort from you?"

"No," House said, following closely behind Wilson as he entered his office, "because if that were the case," he gave a sigh as he paused, "you wouldn't keep coming back." He stood at the front of Wilson's desk, staring down the man that had lost him last night's sleep, his patience, and his ability to understand anything anymore. His eyes burned with anger and confusion, and his entire body shook from within. Wilson only looked up at House, reclining lazily in his leather chair, with eyes wide from apprehension and apparent shock.

"Is your insecurity about our friendship really the reason for all of this?" Wilson said, remaining in his relaxed position, still staring apprehensively at House.

"I could ask you the same thing." House replied, his voice hitting its lowest octave, and cracking from his frustration which he could not contain. His eyes still looked blazingly at Wilson's.

Wilson uncharacteristically broke into a malicious laugh, and sat up from his recline so he could return House's glare. "Okay, House, I'll go along with this," he said, raising his hands from the desk to reveal his palms in a surrendering gesture. "But I honestly don't know what you want from me anymore. I – I'm happy with Amber. I've said this a thousand times. If you're not going to be happy for me and support me in my time of good fortune, go ahead, make your life hell by trying to understand what should be so – so blatantly easy to understand! Twist it all you want!"

"Nothing is that easy," House said quietly.

Wilson gave House a look of exasperation. "It's a re-lat-tion-ship, House—"

"Besides, that's not my plan." House decided on the spot to tell Wilson outright. "My plan is to see who dominates your life; which leash are you being held by."

"Yes, because I'm either a slave to your will or hers."

"Now you're catching on," House said in a false-cheery tone. Wilson's face met his palms with a resounding sigh. "When you crack under the strain – as I know you will – it'll either be because of me, or because of her."

"At this point, I think you've won," Wilson's muffled voice carried out from behind his hands.

"Well, whoever snaps you isn't the winner – the winner is the person you end up running to next, because they're the one who can really give you happiness ---"

"Ah, and the security which you believe I lack." Wilson said, anger finally rising in his voice as he pulled his hands away from his face. He stood up, and began to walk around the desk, inching slowly towards House's tired face.

"House," he began, entirely exasperated at this point, "there is a distinct difference between us, and it's not Amber. It's security. Learn to let go."

"I will," House said, still with his tired, low tone, "after I succeed in making you suffer."

"My suffering makes you feel secure?"

"No," House said, finally grabbing the doorknob of Wilson's office and beginning to leave, "what I'll get from all of this is what will make me feel secure."

Wilson looked up, alarmed. His eyes were wide again with apprehension, and his eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hair. Stuttering and blinking quickly, he tried to ask, "You – y – you don't mean –"

"Answers." House said, slamming the door behind him, leaving Wilson to grasp everything that had just happened. Waves of confusion bowled him over like the tide over rocks, and at last, Wilson stumbled to his chair, and laid his head down on the desk in a heap of despair and bewilderment. He hadn't thought that dating Amber would've brought out the cruelty of House – just his jealousy. But Wilson now realized that those two words were nearly synonymous with each other when it came to House.


	2. Out to Lunch

Coming to Terms with a Facade

_Rating:_ PG- PG13 for language

_Pairings and Characters_: Amber/Wilson, House, the rest

_Warnings:_ Spoilers for 4x12 Don't Ever Change, pre-slash/House/Wilson friendship

_Disclaimer:_ House and all other related characters are owned by Fox. This story borrows them simply for amusement and for a chance to write. No profits, no commercials. I promise.

_Summary:_ Although House seems to have let go of Wilson and accepted the woman he's dating, Houses' insecurities about himself and his friendship with Wilson continue to drive him to push Wilson till he breaks. The ultimate question remains: will he break because of Amber or because of House?

----

Chapter 2

"So... why are we here, again?"

The snow was reaching a torrential point outside, and Wilson seemed impatient to head back to the hospital. The fact that House had chosen to actually, physically take Wilson out to lunch at a cafe was unthinkable; certainly a situation Wilson had never expected. What was above the call of duty was the fact that the duo sat there, drinking their coffee contentedly while a thick, hot sandwich rested temptingly on each of their plates, all thanks to House's credit card.

"Simple. To make you happy. If Amber gets to you first, I want to make sure I get to gloat because I'm in your good graces."

"Awfully generous of you..."

"Ah well, you gotta have someone who is. Anyway, I think we started off on the wrong foot the other day. So tell me..." House pretended lean in slowly, as if preparing to reveal a big secret, "everything about Amber. Her ex-boyfriends, her family, her childhood. What made her such a bitch? Was she abused?"

"House, it's none of your business. She's not your patient. She's my girlfriend."

"You're just trying to get around this because you don't have the answers. Some relationship."

"I know a lot more about Amber than you'd expect." Wilson said, gritting his teeth and gazing down at his half-eaten sandwich.

"Which you're not going to tell me..."

"Yes, good guess."

"Why not?"

"Because it's personal, House! She told me, not you. She likes me – not you. I'm dating her --" Wilson paused in the middle of his frantic exclamations to look up at House. His eyes suddenly grew wide with a new source of comprehension. House wasn't the only one at the table who could recognize patterns in human behavior.

"You did this to Cuddy." Wilson suddenly said, his voice became quiet with his underlying sense of excitement and utter confusion.

House only continued to hungrily scarf down his sandwich, spilling mayonnaise onto his plate with the occasional spattering of lettuce. His deep blue eyes, however, shifted from his messy meal to Wilson's face, which was gathering emotional momentum with every second.

"I remember last Valentine's Day, y – you crashed Cuddy's date."

"So?" House said, leaning in towards Wilson, sandwich still in hand.

"It was here, too, wasn't it?" He quickly glanced around the cafe, and matched the two images in his mind. _What did this all mean?_

House kept chewing.

"You made up excuses that entire night to go see her – to see what she was up to. To learn about her tastes in men and to scare him away. Were you... jealous?"

"You'd be jealous too if that huge piece of ass could've been in _your _bed that night."

"No, no, House," Wilson began to chuckle, and his brown eyes shimmered from laughter, "you're not trying to scare Amber away, are you? You realize you're doing the exact same thing."

"Selfless, remember? I gave up on screwing up your relationship yesterday."

"No, no this still has to do with me. Somehow, you've turned me into Cuddy." Wilson broke into a wave of laughter, clutching his sides and rudely hitting his hands on the table at various intervals. House only scowled, completely silent at his hysterical friend. He then stood up, grabbed his coat and cane, and began to walk out of the cafe into the deep snow.

Immediately, Wilson's laughter subsided, and he quickly grabbed his coat to run after his friend. As he opened the door and stepped onto the pavement, a blast of icy wind hit his face, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath, pull his coat more tightly about him, and hurry on after the skulking figure of House.

"House!" Wilson called, his breath causing the air in front of him to turn to fog. House stopped in his tracks and turned, facing his best friend with a look of utter frustration and anger.

"Why are you doing this?" Wilson asked, as he came into conversation's distance with House. His breath spread in a mist around House's face, causing House to squint with disgust.

"Why do you have to turn everything into something about you? You scared Cuddy's date because you were jealous. You're interrogating me like hell because you're afraid that Amber has more to offer than you do. Again, you're jealous. You have no reason to be. Unless..."

House looked away, and as he reacted to Wilson's statement, Wilson recognized a feeling of underlying guilt in House's look. There was something beneath that hardened shell that, Wilson knew, House wasn't going to open up to him about. Whether Wilson liked it or not, this apparent guilt of House's intrigued him. Perhaps it was because with this single, involuntary response, Wilson had been given the answer to his only question: there was more to House's current behavior than his insecurity.

"You're not giving me answers," House muttered, still looking away from Wilson, who was wearing a look of triumph.

"I'm giving you answers," Wilson said, stepping closer to his best friend, and attempting to look him in the eye, "just to questions about yourself, not me. Cuddy did that, too."

"So you're saying I'm being a selfish bastard by attempting to be selfless?"

"It's part of who you are, I guess. And besides," Wilson rolled his eyes, slowly stepping back from House, "you're not being selfless. You're trying to ruin my only current source of happiness in my life right now, and just by being yourself, you're doing a pretty damn good job."

House only continued to look away from Wilson. It was not often that House had nothing to say in response to Wilson's analyses, which Wilson knew meant he had finally struck home with _something_... He was definitely hiding something, and again Wilson felt that itch to find out what it was that was subduing the selfish beast within House.

"Leave your analyses of me at home," House finally spoke. "Leave me alone -- "

"No House, leave _me _alone. If you want happiness, you'll find it between me and Amber. That's never going to change, no matter how much you try," Wilson said, scratching the back of his neck as he turned on his heel and walked back to the hospital.

House stood on the pavement, the snow pilling up at his feet, as the icy wind whipped his face. The coldness and numbness of the weather seemed to have spilled into his heart, where strangely enough, he felt a pang of pain. It was almost as if the iciness of Wilson's demands had controlled the weather, leaving House with the thick of the storm. He had never meant for things to turn out this way. Cuddy had been a flash in the pan; with Wilson, his physical act of pushing him away had been more piercing than Cuddy's. Cuddy, with her simple mocking statement, "Do you like me, House?" had only guided him away from temptation. With Wilson, House now realized that he wanted to come back, to try again.

If this event had taught House anything, House now knew that Wilson made for an extremely difficult person to analyze. Manipulating was simple enough, but the complexity of Wilson's character sparked a drive in House that he had never had before. Even Stacy hadn't offered these many complicated twists and turns.

House gazed at the tread marks in the snow left behind by Wilson's shoes, and he realized a sudden emptiness, a feeling that actual shoes needed to fill those marks in the snow, and that all the security in the world would come from Wilson simply standing there again.

This wave of emotion baffled House, nearly causing him to kneel over in the snow from shock. He couldn't understand what he was discovering about himself, and what everything as a whole meant. These desires, drives, emotions and temptations had not risen in his heart since Stacy had left him; why were they returning now, and for _Wilson_, of all people? To be moved to frustration and grief over such complicated feelings that _Wilson _had caused him to feel; it was unnatural, or certainly absurd. He was chasing Wilson for information, definitely not to earn Wilson for himself... that was ridiculous.

From his kneeling position, cane at his forehead, House gazed involuntarily again at Wilson's footprints. The duo had always stuck out for each other, whether they felt content with the concept or not. Now, House realized that he was pushing the envelope as it was. Wilson's patience had been tested thousands of times over and now, with a relationship on the line, Wilson was clearly begging for House to leave him alone, so that he could be happy for once in his life. _But what if I can make him happier than Amber can?_ Was Wilson playing with his emotions; dragging him around to make him suffer? Jealousy consciously rose in House for the first time, as he seemed to embrace the fact that Wilson's presence gave him a confidence – a happiness, perhaps – that he had not had since he had been in love with Stacy.

He suddenly knew what he had to do, but now, it was just a matter of that rare chance, that struggling hope that Wilson would see the same emptiness House had seen and reach the same, torturous conclusion. He rose from his position, sighing and groaning as he straightened up to full height. He then gazed at Wilson's footprints one last time, following them down the street as he walked, often times filling his shoe in Wilson's prints.

At last, House had real answers.

Chapter 3


	3. Invasion of Privacy

Coming to Terms with a Facade

_Rating:_ PG- PG13 for language

_Pairings and Characters_: Amber/Wilson, House

_Warnings:_ Spoilers for 4x12 Don't Ever Change, pre-slash/House/Wilson friendship

_Disclaimer:_ House and all other related characters are owned by Fox. This story borrows them simply for amusement and for a chance to write. No profits, no commercials. I promise.

_Summary:_ Although House seems to have let go of Wilson and accepted the woman he's dating, Houses' insecurities about himself and his friendship with Wilson continue to drive him to push Wilson till he breaks. The ultimate question remains: will he break because of Amber or because of House?

---

Chapter 3

House stopped walking at the driveway of a cottage-like home. As he began to catch his breath, he gave himself one deep look at the house. It was a little too flowery for comfort, as the entire front was covered in ivy which climbed the brick front of the house. The awnings were covered in snow, protecting the frosted windows from the harsh weather. The recent snowstorm had also devoured the planted flowers along the path leading up to the front porch, giving the house a trapped feeling.

_Yup,_ House thought, _this is definitely the house of a bitch_. He quickly glanced at the driveway and then into the interior of the home, double-checking that no one was home yet. Since there was no car in the driveway and every light was off, House continued onwards, hobbling in his traditional manner down the path, up the steps of the porch, stopping at Amber's front door. He wasted no time in pulling out a key from his pocket; he had found it in Wilson's wallet after lunch.

As he placed the key in the keyhole, House allowed himself a moment's reflection. Wilson's office had been as messy as always when House had stolen his key. Wilson had left his wallet on the desk, as he did almost everyday; House never quite understood why Wilson hadn't learned long ago to keep his wallet in a safe or some sort of location which House couldn't invade. But these petty details and quirks of Wilson's were irrelevant in comparison to what House was struggling to remember; had there always been a picture of Amber on his desk? Or rather, how long had the photo gone unnoticed? And that smell in his office... had Wilson's office always smelled so comfortingly?

House shook his head, snapping himself out of these uncharacteristically emotional thoughts. He had only gone several hours since that unsettling realization and already he was allowing himself to bask in this new level of comfort and acceptance. Yet House could not deny that he enjoyed this new feeling. He felt almost peaceful, in an odd state of what felt like bliss that he had not possessed before lunch. Usually his vicodin gave him a similar sensation as it kicked in for his leg pain, but now it came with not only a feeling of relief, but sheer happiness. It was certainly uncanny, almost frightening to House, but his animal desire for pleasure held him back from his temptations to push the feelings away.

The door opened, causing an alarm to sound throughout the house. House swore under his breath, and wracked his brains to remember the code he had punched in last time. Thinking quickly, House pressed in Amber's birth date, and the alarm fell silent. The whooping of the alarm echoed for a few seconds, then died away, leaving Amber's home at the mercy of House's will. He glanced around in the darkness for a few moments, then groped for the light. His hand made contact with a switch on the wall next to the front door, and then light flooded the living room. House observed the slightly familiar atmosphere of Amber's room, from the hardwood floor, to the mirror next to the coat rack. He then transitioned his gaze to the carpeted room covered in bookshelves stacked high with various novels and textbooks where a desk stood invitingly with a large swivel chair.

Like last time, House walked over to the large chair and placed himself in it. As he gave a sigh of relaxation, he then sat up and immediately began to dig through every drawer, scrambling, attempting to find a fault in Amber which would cause Wilson to finally snap out of his strange pull of attraction. He found old bills, random letters, emails and at last, a small black, leather book. In the midst of the scattered papers showered like confetti over the desk, House opened the book – which he knew had to be her diary – and began to pour over it.

"Enjoying a bit of light reading?" a voice carried from the doorway. It was not a feminine voice... House's heart jumped as he looked up and saw Wilson, briefcase on the floor at his side and currently in the process of removing his snow jacket, revealing his McGill sweater and jeans. Struggling to maintain his normal, casual air, House slowly closed the diary and reclined in the chair.

"As a matter of fact," he said, drawing out his voice in an attempt to convey an innocent, sarcastic tone, "I was. Very fascinating personal problems. See here..." he began to flip through the pages of the diary, "ah, 'February 15th, 2008: James gave me the most beautiful earrings I have ever seen. I have never been happier with anyone else. Who else has the ability to show someone so fluidly and beautifully how much they care? Leo certainly never did that...'" House looked up at Wilson.

"Awww, 'James'. Did she make that up? And earrings..." House attempted to continue teasing, but Wilson cut across him.

"To what level do you plan to stoop to, House? Get out of Amber's house."

"I might just tell you to do the same thing," House said before he could stop himself.

Wilson only laughed in disbelief, flashing the same smile from lunch, with the matching eyes squinting in the emotional state of being humored. House felt his body involuntarily wince.

"House, I must admit, you've got me completely baffled," Wilson began, still holding back bursts of laughter, "one minute you're announcing that you're going to make my life hell in order to prove your security, and the next minute you're digging through my girlfriend's drawers to find her diary. What are you trying to accomplish? Seriously. You're obviously extremely jealous, but what I'd like to know," he said, still maintaining a cruel air of mockery which caused House's piercing gaze to falter at times, "is who you're jealous of."

House actually gaped at Wilson for a moment, mouthing soundlessly. For the second time in several hours, he found that he had nothing he could say to Wilson. Everything Wilson did continued to amaze him, and simultaneously made his whole body shake with confusion and discomfort.

Wilson scrutinized House as he continued to gape and periodically look away. He realized that he had somehow struck a nerve. Something had changed in House – Wilson knew that without a single doubt – but this change was beyond anything that had ever happened before. He had never rendered House speechless before and suddenly, House had become the gaping wonder. Something was seriously wrong...

"House...?" Wilson asked, cocking his head to one side in concerned curiosity. "Are you... okay?" He began to slowly approach Amber's desk, where House still sat with his head drooping slightly on his chest. As Wilson finally reached the desk, he gently placed both of his hands at the edges of the desk and waited for any reaction... anything at all...

House only continued to look between his legs at the floor from his seat, struggling against every fiber he had to look Wilson in the eye. After a while, he allowed his eyes to quickly glance at the desk, and as he did, he noticed Wilson's fingers resting there. House hadn't noticed Wilson walk towards the desk, and House took his close presence by surprise. In his slight alarm, House looked up at Wilson at last, and their eyes met.

At first, Wilson had to hold back his surprise at the intensity of House's gaze, but as that split-second of surprise passed, Wilson was able to understand all of the emotion conveyed there. His eyes were not shining their typical deep blue, instead shining something lighter or paler, and his pupils seemed to have recoiled, nearly disappearing into the sea of pale blue.

The gaze pierced Wilson's memory, stirring images of most all of his cancer patients. That was not a look of fear, but of longing, hope and love. He had seen that look in his patients. Those people had all clung to that same hope that they would not be betrayed by life; that they could continue to fulfill their lives. In their hopeful stares at their doctor, they all pleaded for news of happiness and hope; they pleaded for the chance to love again.

Therefore, there could only be two possible reasons why House beheld that look – he was either dying, or in love. Something told Wilson that the first option was not likely... perhaps it was the fact that as their eyes broke the gaze, House placed his head in his hands and let out a long sigh. But it was not just that; Wilson should've seen this coming. The second option answered all of the questions Wilson had gathered about House over the past two days. It perfectly explained his behavior; no explanation was needed. It had always been jealousy, Wilson now realized, and he felt a guilty pang at his heart as he thought it. He had been taunting House the entire time, pulling him by the heartstrings... if House had any.

Guilt spread like poison through Wilson, causing his hands to shake slightly. He withdrew them from the desktop, placing them in his jean pockets. He let out a sigh, removing one of his hands to run it through his hair, along the back of his neck. He back away from the desk, pacing slightly from the weight of his thoughts. He paused to gaze at the wall, and then turned to begin pacing in the opposite direction. As he spun, he saw the figure of his girlfriend fill the front doorway. It was now Wilson's turn to embrace shock, as he jumped and gasped, "Amber."

"Hello, James." Amber said, sporting a cheery tone, "Is Greg here, too? How nice of him to drop by..." She maintained a frighteningly soft, menacing tone. She closed the door behind her and went over to her mirror, where she stared at House's reflection. She removed her jacket, hung it up on the coat rack and walked her typical, sassy-mannered stride over to Wilson. Planting a kiss on his cheek, she pretended not to notice House, who was still sitting at her desk only now dumbfounded at the combination of Wilson and Amber's presence.

"Hi," Wilson said, matching Amber's quiet voice. But his lack of volume came as a result of his continuous shock and dawning comprehension - not from a menace which Amber seemed to hold. He seemed to gaze half-consciously at Amber, who put on a frown and asked, "Is everything okay?" as she ran her hand down his cheek.

Wilson seemed to come to his senses as he took a deep intake of breath and responded, "Yes, yes, everything's just... fine." He began to bounce on the balls of his feet uncomfortably. Amber seemed to wait for more details, but as Wilson continued to stand awkwardly rooted to the spot, she began to look from Wilson to House, attempting to gather up any information she could.

"Am I... interrupting anything?" She asked, now turning her eagle-gaze onto House. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

At last, House seemed to regain his usual mannerism. "No," he said, beginning to rise from his chair, "in fact, we were just talking about you."

From behind Amber, Wilson threw back his head as his eyes began to take a tour of the ceiling.

"Oh, really?" Amber said, feigning surprise as she glanced behind her at Wilson.

"Yes. You really make for a fascinating read.." he said, picking up the little black diary as he stood.

Amber seemed to flinch for split second, but then broke into a smile. "You'll enjoy what I wrote about James, then. I'm guessing you've already read February 15th's entry. It was definitely the most... intriguing."

House seemed to mull over her word choice for a moment, and then spoke, "Mmm, 'intriguing' isn't the word I would use. More like, 'revealing.' As you know, I go straight to the gossip." He began to walk toward Amber, hatred and envy reverberating in every step he took.

"Well, now that you've found my deepest, darkest secrets, I want you out of my house." Her face was no longer wearing that facade of a smile. Instead, her face bore a deep sense of seriousness which gave her appearance a sense of intimidation even more powerful than her normal, bitchy act.

"If you need to talk with James about something, go do it on your own time."

"Gladly," House said, throwing a furious look at Amber as he stormed by her. He passed Amber on her left, causing her to retreat slightly into Wilson, who stood nearest the wall, still wearing his look of shock. House turned in the doorway, looking painfully at Amber and Wilson. Amber continued to glare at House, telling him with her eyes to begin his retreat. Wilson's eyes simply said, "I'm sorry." As House's eyes passed over Wilson, he felt one last jerk at his heart. He then grabbed the doorknob, and slammed it behind him. his receding footsteps were padded by the crunching of snow.

Amber sighed, "I though he'd never leave." She then headed to the kitchen. As Wilson heard the refrigerator door open, Amber's voice rang out, "how long was he here?"

"I – I don't know," Wilson said, still standing rooted to the spot, now apparently torn between bolting out the door after House and letting everything go. "He was going through your diary when I came in, so it couldn't have been for too long...

Amber returned to the living room, holding a beer in each hand. She then strolled over to the television and sat on the couch. When Wilson didn't move, she stood up and walked over to him.

"What's wrong with you today?" She asked, moving within kissing distance to him. She ran her hand down his cheek again, and looked into his deep, brown eyes. Wilson could only close his eyes and sigh. Amber sympathetically closed her eyes, leaning her body into Wilson's large torso, her pressing her lips gently against his, expecting a response. He lightly embraced her, accepting her kiss, but continued to stare fixedly at the door. As Amber broke the kiss, Wilson seized his opportunity. He gave Amber one last look, then quickly ran to the coat rack, grabbing his coat as he then fled to the door. As the door swung open, Amber's confused voice called out to him.

"Where are you going?!"

"To set things right," he said, slamming the door, leaving Amber to ponder the meaning of this vague idea in his wake.


	4. Setting Things Right

Coming to Terms with a Facade

_Rating:_ PG- PG13 for language

_Pairings and Characters_: Amber/Wilson, House

_Warnings:_ Spoilers for 4x12 Don't Ever Change, pre-slash/House/Wilson friendship

_Disclaimer:_ House and all other related characters are owned by Fox. This story borrows them simply for amusement and for a chance to write. No profits, no commercials. I promise.

_Summary:_ Although House seems to have let go of Wilson and accepted the woman he's dating, Houses' insecurities about himself and his friendship with Wilson continue to drive him to push Wilson till he breaks. The ultimate question remains: will he break because of Amber or because of House?

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Chapter 4

For the second time that day, Wilson found himself chasing after House in the bitter cold. But this time, it was not because of House's manipulations or attempts to jerk him around. No, this time, it was House who had been dragged along, even mocked, by these emotions which Wilson knew House had been struggling to come to terms with earlier that day. He didn't know why he was so deeply affected by what he had done to House, but he knew that he had to set things right. Perhaps it was his desire to correct the neediness of those around him...

Suddenly, Wilson stopped in his tracks, the irony of his situation closing in on him. During all of those years of chasing women who "needed" him, who longed for a source of happiness in their world of apparent despair and loneliness, Wilson had been completely blind to the neediness of his best friend. Or maybe.. was it that his neediness beforehand had never possessed a romantic appeal as it seemed to do now?

On top of it all, Wilson realized he had always needed someone to cleanse the feeling of emptiness that lingered in his heart. Amber had only cured that barren feeling for a short while, eclipsing his emptiness. Now that spectacular eclipse was gone, leaving Wilson bathed in the moon's true light. He now stood with everything he had before Amber, plus something essential: the truth.

Why hadn't he seen it before? House had always been equally pathetic and needy, yet he had always turned to Wilson as a fallback and source of support when his relationships turned sour. But Wilson was guilty of that, too. House had always been his comfort, never his source of happiness. But now, in this moment, it was clear to Wilson that they needed each other. As the other's equal, they could maintain a relationship with realistic checks and balances; they knew each other's faults, quirks, and most importantly, their most unique qualities – the characteristics which made them ideal as the best friend.

Images swam through Wilson's hurried mind of nearly every day he had shared with House. He thought of when they had first met, which then jumped to House's break-up with Stacy, which then flowed into many carefree nights at the hospital, from poker night to Christmas a few months previous. At last, Wilson found himself arriving at the image of House's utterly desperate gaze that he had given Wilson just minutes before. Those eyes... they seemed to echo with longing that House was obviously struggling to repress. But Wilson knew that neediness had always been there. It was just now that both he and Wilson had allowed it to float to their level of consciousness.

Wilson suddenly felt a sense of entrapment, almost as though he had been running from himself for all of these years. He had trapped himself in those years of delusions – each of those wives had been an attempt to cover up what was always there, both physically and mentally. Overwhelmed by the clichéd irony of it all, Wilson groaned, running his hands through his hair and spinning in a circle on the spot. How could he have been so blind?

A car sped past, causing a wave of water and snow to flow onto the pavement, forcing Wilson to gather his senses. He stood for a moment, and then glanced around, taking in his environment. The street was completely empty, save for himself and a barely noticeable figure which continued to shrink in size as it moved further and further away from the place to which Wilson had rooted himself. As Wilson scrutinized the figure, he noticed that it seemed to move with a limp.

"House," he whispered to himself. Taking a deep breath, he began to sprint after House. As his feet thudded against the pavement, he breathed rhythmically, thinking about nothing except catching up with the one man who could set everything right. With another pang, Wilson realized he was, in a very twisted way, running after himself. At last, he was not only confronting House for his problems, but setting things right for himself. "There's no way this can be a wrong decision," he announced triumphantly, and he felt himself break into a smile.

He ran on for several minutes, missing a speeding car by inches as he continued to run through a red light. The figure of House loomed ever closer, until at last, Wilson was within shouting distance of his friend.

"House!" he called out between panting breaths, "House! HOUSE!" On the third call, House stopped in his tracks. Exhausted, Wilson gave his body one last push towards the finish line. As he was within a few yards of House, Wilson stopped running, bending double and clutching at his sides, entirely out of breath. House continued to stand, carefully observing his best friend with scrutinized eyes as he choked and gasped for breath.

"What do you want?" House finally asked, a scowl beginning to crawl across his face.

Wilson couldn't answer, as he continued to gasp for air. He frantically looked around for a place to sit, and to his luck, saw a bench a short ways off. He slowly rose from his position of recovery and walked to the bench. As he sat down, he let out a cough mingled with a sigh of relief, and was surprised to find that House had followed him and now stood over him, continuing to gaze intently at his wheezing friend.

"I want..." Wilson panted, "to talk to you."

"Thanks for the obvious, Sherlock," House said, rolling his eyes and then returning his gaze to Wilson.

"Shut up, House," Wilson said, straightening up to look his friend in the face. Their eyes met, just as they had so many times before, but now Wilson felt the tension sitting there. There was a weight to the gaze that he had never been able to notice. Here and now, however, the tension was enough to cause both of them to look away uncomfortably, shifting in their positions as they scrambled to find something – anything – to say.

'Look," Wilson tried again, "I just wanted to... apologize."

For a split second, House's eyes widened in genuine interest, but his reaction was quickly smothered as his eyes narrowed once more and he responded.

"For... what?"

"For being... a..." Wilson struggled to find the right word, "for being an ass. To you. And although it may sound strange, for being an ass to myself."

House only continued to stare at Wilson.

"I realize that we've both been jerking each other around. Ever since we met, I think, we've just... screwed with each other's heads. Who knows how long we've been dragging each other around?"

"You're saying we've been using each other?"

"Yes! House! You've always known we've have a stupid, screwed up friendship. That's all we've ever had! But somehow, through it all, it's always meant something."

"Yeah, free lunch for 4 years."

"House," Wilson started, in a dangerous tone, "don't try to keep beating about the bush. I saw how you looked at me earlier. It means something to you, too."

House flashed a sardonic smile, rolling his eyes once again, "You're making this into more than it really is---"

"And you're trying to cover up what you know is really there!" Wilson snapped back, raising a pointed finger at House.

"Nothing is there!" House defended, "stop trying to look for something more between us. It doesn't make any..." House trailed off, pausing in a moment of realization. He refused to believe that he had just, out loud, tried to push Wilson's romantic pursuits away. Wilson chuckled from his bench seat.

"There, you realize what you're saying!" he said excitedly. "It does make sense! Because it's true! You know that! We have _more _than a screwed up friendship, we have a perfect _relationship_!"

"Oh, I see," House said, still maintaining his protective cover of sarcasm, "casual marriages between our lunch dates makes for a perfect relationship."

"We have the same needs: each other!" Wilson said, ignoring House's comment as he jumped up from the bus seat. He began to laugh in disbelief once again.

"I can't believe you're suddenly trying to push me away again! I'm laying everything out for you," he said, continuing to laugh. "I know what you're feeling; I know you, House! Don't keep running away from what you _know _will make you happy," his voice suddenly turned quiet and serious, "it's what I've been doing these past 4 years."

At last, Wilson fell silent; his panting of excitement mixed with remnants of his exhaustion remained as the only noise between them besides the whispering of the winter wind. As Wilson looked bewilderedly at House, he saw that his blue eyes seemed to sparkle, and they were wide with emotion.

"You can't seriously be thinking," House began, a tone of caution in his voice, "that the solution to all of my – what do you call it – 'pathetic-ness' is... you?"

Wilson spread his arms out in an small, welcoming gesture. "Yes," he said, simply. "Me."

"You?" House said, taking a step closer to Wilson. Their noses were now several inches from each other, and their gazes seemed to intensify. Wilson felt the weight of everything riding on this moment. The air seemed to stand still, hanging with impatience and tension, and Wilson felt his heart begin to race. They could see each other's breath turn to fog as they exhaled, and the mist of their breaths lingered together before disappearing into the atmosphere.

There was one more moment's pause in which the two friends scanned each other's faces, reading every detail they could each absorb in that moment of utter suspense before, at last, House felt himself embracing Wilson's face in his hands as he pressed his lips firmly and passionately onto Wilson's half-opened mouth.

There was a slight moment where Wilson seemed in a state of shock, unsure what to do with himself. But as House continued to kiss, Wilson felt his body enter a state of wholesome bliss. This was the feeling he had been searching for throughout those years past. He felt complete at last, as his arms slowly moved from their static state at his sides to House's neck and his lips returned the fierce passion that had finally exploded from House. The two of them stood there, locked in an embrace as the wind whistled around them and snow began to fall like celebratory confetti.

When they broke apart, House lowered his hands from Wilson's face, as he placed his forehead against Wilson's. Their eyes locked, and at last, a smile spread across House's face as he took in Wilson's brown eyes.

"Huh," he chuckled, "for once, you're right."

Wilson felt a smile spread across his face, and for the first time in years, he let out a genuine laugh. He leaned into House once again, lightly kissing his bristled lips. As the snow began to fall harder, Wilson shivered, breaking apart from House. He nodded his head towards the hospital, beckoning for House to follow him back to work.

Giving Wilson a look of understanding, House picked up his cane from the snow-covered sidewalk and began to walk alongside his partner. As they drew nearer the hospital, House threw a glance at Wilson. As Wilson looked over at him questioningly, House only had to give him a knowing smile for Wilson to understand, "Thank you."

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The End


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